


What Wasn't Said

by TinaCentury



Category: Bishoujo Senshi Sailor Moon | Pretty Guardian Sailor Moon, Bishoujo Senshi Sailor Moon | Pretty Guardian Sailor Moon (Anime & Manga)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-02
Updated: 2019-03-01
Packaged: 2019-11-07 20:41:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17967686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TinaCentury/pseuds/TinaCentury
Summary: "Mamo-chan," she whispered. "I was there. I heard your screams. I saw the look on your face."...Usagi helps Mamoru deal with the aftermath of having his dream mirror stolen.





	1. Chapter 1

* * *

 

What Wasn't Said  
Chapter 1

* * *

 

Chiba Mamoru stared at the open Organic Chemistry textbook on his table, rereading the same line for the fifth time. He tried to ignore the images flicking around the edges of his consciousness: the pretty blue-haired girl flirting with him, the cold metal shackles clamping around his wrists and ankles…his dreams. He gritted his teeth and read the line in the textbook a sixth time, and this time, it clicked into place slightly more than it had before.  
  
This is what he had always done—thrown himself fully into his schoolwork when bigger, deeper, and more uncomfortable things were bothering him. He supposed that was one reason for his academic success; he’d started using school to cope with the loneliness he’d felt at the orphanage as a child, and he’d continued ever since. Whenever his mind was laser-focused on his studies, it was easier to drown everything else out, and, as far as coping mechanisms went, it was a rather rewarding one.  
  
So, Mamoru continued reading, gaining a sliver of traction in the mental battle he was fighting with himself. He had managed to make it through three chapters, successfully having pushed those threatening recollections away, when the sound of his doorbell interrupted him.  
  
He was surprised to see Usagi on the other side of the door so late in the evening, two to-go coffee cups in her hands. He hadn’t seen her since…more memories from earlier that afternoon flooded back to him.  
  
His chest feeling like it was going to explode as a stranger rifled through his most intimate thoughts.  
  
Sailor Moon gently helping him sit up on the park’s concrete sidewalk as he came to.  
  
Usagi holding his hand and casting sidelong concerned glances his way as they walked back to his apartment in silence.  
  
He had been so shellshocked, so emotionally and physically exhausted from the whole experience, that he barely spoke, just clung to her hand like a lifeline, and she didn’t pry. She’d told him he needed to rest; helped him put on his pajamas and pushed him into bed, despite the fact that it wasn’t even 5:00 pm.  
  
When he had tried to say that he had something he needed to tell her, that it was the girl from the pet shop who had attacked him, that she was actually the enemy, he’d been so drained he could hardly get the words out. She had shushed him, assured him that he could tell her whatever he had to the next day, and he’d fallen asleep to the calming sounds of rain that had started falling as she slipped out the door.  
  
He’d slept fitfully for a few hours, each turn of his head on his pillow punctuated by another flashback from the day: the girl cornering him on the street and trying to kiss him, the intense shame he felt as she buried her head in his dream mirror and freely looked at everything in his soul. She had torn through its contents as if she owned them, ripped through the walls Mamoru had spent years carefully building around himself. He had never felt so exposed.  
  
However, after waking up and successfully immersing himself in Organic Chemistry, the memories had faded a bit. They weren’t gone, but they were ready to be filed in the same recesses of his mind where everything else that was uncomfortable for him to talk about was. People had all over the city had been having their dream mirrors stolen, and, as someone who was sworn to protect those people, Mamoru felt he needed to get over his own experience with it. It wasn’t a big deal, he convinced himself.  
  
“Mamo-chan!” Usagi greeted him cheerfully, kissing his cheek, removing her shoes, and heading toward his kitchen. Mamoru felt his heart swell with the gentle contentment it always did when Usagi was near as he followed her. “Here!” She handed him one of the cups.  
  
“Mmm”, he murmured, smiling as the sweet taste of coffee and vanilla hit his tongue. Years ago, when their days had been defined by bickering on the streets of Juuban and at the arcade, she had teased him mercilessly when she discovered how sweet and flavored he took his coffee. It didn’t match his boring personality, she had huffed at him.  
  
Internally, Mamoru agreed with her. It didn’t match. But then, sometimes he felt, neither did Usagi, her warmth and sweetness constantly dispelling what he saw as the darkness from his soul, swirling through him much like the vanilla-flavored coffee creamer that made his days a little bit better. He had shared this metaphor with her one day, once they had gotten together. She had blushed becomingly, and since then, always took any opportunity she could to surprise him with a vanilla latte.  
  
“Thank you, Usako. You and coffee are always a welcome surprise.”  
  
Her back to him, Usagi dumped a box of petit fours, miniature cakes decorated with cream fondant and pink and green rosettes, she had brought with her onto a plate. Mamoru frowned at her demeanor. Normally, when Usagi was in his kitchen, even doing a simple task, she would be zipping around like a tornado, giggling and leaving mini zones of destruction in her wake. But now, she slowly arranged the cakes on the plate, her shoulders tense.  
  
“Usako?” Mamoru whispered, coming up behind her and resting his palms on her shoulders. “What is it?” There was no mistaking the anxiety coming from her now.  
  
But when she spoke, her voice was strong. “They went after me tonight. After my dream mirror.”  
  
Mamoru’s arms tightened around Usagi’s shoulders, guilt washing over him. “I’m so sorry I wasn’t there. I…” She turned around in his embrace, pressing a finger to his lips before he could finish his sentence.  
  
“I’m fine. It wasn’t a big deal. That’s not what I want to talk about.” She extricated herself from his arms and brought the plate of petit fours and her own coffee to the low table by his bed. She sat down, and gestured for Mamoru to do the same. After he did, she took a sip of her coffee and swallowed. When she spoke, her tone was soft. “I want to talk about what they did to you.”  
  
Mamoru immediately stiffened.   
  
“You said it yourself; it’s not a big deal,” he replied, somewhat dismissively, nibbling on a piece of cake. “I’m fine.”  
  
“No; I said it wasn’t a big deal for me. Me. Who wears her emotions on her sleeve and has no problem sharing feelings with complete strangers.” Usagi gave a small, almost apologetic smile. “Still, it wasn’t comfortable. Them prying into my dreams like that”  
  
Mamoru met her with silence, not meeting her gaze, the images he’d tried so hard to block out earlier coming back to him with a vengeance.  
  
Usagi scooted closer to him. “Mamo-chan,” she whispered. “I was there. I heard your screams. I saw the look on your face.” She placed her hand on his cheek, gently coaxing his gaze toward hers. “My heart broke for you.” Her eyes shone with tears of empathy and understanding, and Mamoru found himself wondering, not for the first time, how it was that she was able to so effectively read his soul.  
  
He squeezed his eyes shut, saying nothing. Usagi responded by wrapping her arms around him, attempting to cradle his large form as much as her small one would allow. She ran her hand over his back, up and down in time with his labored breaths. “It’s ok, Mamo-chan. I’m here for you.”  
  
And with that simple gesture and supportive words, Mamoru felt his walls crumbling, as they so often did around Usagi. Trust her, his heart hold him, in direct conflict with his mind, which was still telling him to keep it to himself, to hold everything inside.  
  
His heart won.  
  
“Did I ever tell you?” he began thickly, even though he knew the answer. “About the one counselor at the orphanage?” Usagi shook her head. Mamoru pulled back so that he was facing her, and she took his hands in hers. “I had been to counseling before, when I first got there. That counselor had been patient and kind, and understanding of a little boy with amnesia. Then…I was maybe 10 years old, and I had started having the dreams about our past…about you. I hadn’t made many friends there, and the dreams gave me someone who wanted to be with me, needed me, even.”  
  
Usagi squeezed his hands reassuringly.  
  
“I think I knew, even then, that they were more than just dreams. They had hired a new counselor, and when I went to see her, I told her excitedly about my dreams: of princesses and princes and long-lost kingdoms and what they meant to me: hope that things would get better for me, hope for the future. She laughed at me. It wasn’t unkind, per se, but she told me it wasn’t healthy to focus on impossible dreams. That it was better to be realistic and focus on things that could actually happen.”  
  
The tears in Usagi’s eyes began to spill over onto her cheeks as Mamoru spoke, and she traced a comforting pattern on his hands with soft fingertips  
  
Mamoru’s voice faltered, and he paused, taking a slow sip of his coffee. Usagi gently stroked his back as he swallowed, encouraging him to continue.  
  
When he spoke again, his voice shook. “Looking back, I know she probably didn’t mean it this way, but I took it as her saying that my dreams of things getting better for me were unrealistic. Childish. Silly. It stung, and I was never that open with anyone again. I focused on getting good grades so I could get into top schools. That was a realistic dream, at least. And I kept everything else to myself.”  
  
“Mamo-chan…,” Usagi whispered, her tears flowing freely now.  
  
“Until I met you. You, who, like you said, can share your feelings with anyone. It’s one of the things I love most about you…and…it’s something I envy.”  
  
“Envy?”  
  
Mamoru nodded. “It’s so easy for you to share—to show your feelings. You’re not scared of what people will think. I’ve…I’ve gotten better at it, since being with you. I’ve shared things with you I never thought I would be able to share with anyone. But it’s taken me so much work to get there. And it’s still not easy for me. That’s why…”  
  
Mamoru’s voice wavered, then cracked, his eyes filling with tears. “Usako…she saw things I’ve never told anyone. Things I’ve never told you. And she just…took them. Looked at them as if they were hers to have. And I couldn’t do anything about it.”  
  
A few of the tears he’d been trying to hold in slipped out, and he reached to tug on a piece of loose thread on his carpet, anything to try to keep his emotions in check. But then, he found himself enveloped in warmth as Usagi wrapped her arms around him, fingers tangled in his inky hair, and leaned over to place light kisses over the tears on his cheeks.  
  
Slowly, he let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. He had never been this vulnerable in talking about his feelings with her. Had never cried in front of her. He knew Usagi’s capacity for empathy, how she never judged. And yet, opening up like this had always terrified him. He never wanted to seem anything less than perfect for her, wanted to protect her from seeing the turmoil that still bubbled within his soul. But now, he let himself relax in her embrace, accepting the comfort she offered him, reveling in the relief he felt at her touch.  
  
“Thank you, Mamo-chan,” Usagi said softly. He looked at her quizzically. “For sharing that with me,” she explained. “I know how hard it can be for you. And I’m sorry.”  
  
Mamoru’s eyebrows shot up. “For what?”   
  
“For not getting there sooner. For not being able to protect you.”  
  
“Usa, if anyone should be apologizing, it’s me. For not being there for you today.” It was an argument they’d had before, who exactly had failed at protecting whom, and Usagi opened her mouth as if to continue it, then stopped, seemingly having decided to change the subject.  
  
“Mamo-chan…I know you said they…she saw things you’ve never shared with anyone. Would it…would it be helpful to?” When he didn’t respond immediately, she quickly added. “Only if you want to.”  
  
Mamoru swallowed.  
  
Usagi pursed her lips and looked down at the plate on the table thoughtfully. There were three cakes left, little squares of pink and cream that stood out against Mamoru’s brown ceramic plate. “How about…we make it kind of a game? Three cakes. Three topics.”  
  
Mamoru raised an eyebrow. Only Usagi would try to find a way to make something like sharing some of his most intimate secrets fun. He loved her for it. He took a deep breath.  
  
“Ok. Let’s do it.”


	2. Chapter 2

* * *

What Wasn't Said  
Chapter 2

* * *

 

Usagi gave Mamoru an encouraging smile. "Ok, Mamo-chan. First topic. What did she see about school? About your career?"

Ok, this wasn't so bad, Mamoru thought. He had shared quite a bit about this with Usagi already—why he wanted to become a pediatrician because of his soft spot for children, his worries about how he would be able to successfully be both a doctor and king of Crystal Tokyo in the future. But, there was one thing.

"She saw that sometimes…I worry that I'm not smart enough. I dream that I'll get to medical school and everyone will see right through me. And I can't admit that to people because…"

"Because?", Usagi asked, her blonde brows knitted.

Mamoru fiddled with his coffee cup's plastic lid. "Because I'm supposed to be strong. And confident. And sure. And no one wants to hear about my stupid insecurities."

"Says who?" Usagi looked up at Mamoru, kindness radiating from her blue eyes. "You are one of the smartest people I know. And not having doubts or insecurities isn't what makes people strong. It's having doubts and continuing anyway. How many times have you told me that? When I've doubted my ability as Sailor Moon?"

"Usa, that's saving the world," Mamoru replied, agitated that she would even consider that his schoolwork could hold a candle to the responsibility placed on her shoulders. "That's a much bigger deal than me being insecure about med school."

Usagi firmly shook her head. "It's not, Mamo-chan. Look, I know I'm not able to help you with school stuff. Literally everything you do goes so far over my head. But what I do know is you. And I know that you're scared of sharing your doubts because you don't want your feelings to be a burden on anyone. And that you feel like you have to be perfect. But, don't you see? If you always aim for perfection, you're always going to let yourself down, because you're  _human_. And sharing your feelings isn't a burden on people, least of all me."

She smiled wryly. "And while I really,  _really_  don't get it, I see how much you enjoy your studies and love to learn. Don't let your doubts get in the way of that."

It actually did make Mamoru feel a little better to share with her, and, judging by the way Usagi's eyes were sparkling as she delicately grasped the first of the three remaining petit fours with her fingers, she knew it.

Usagi raised the confection to his mouth. "Open up."

He took a bite, the moist, sweet sponge cake and vanilla icing pleasantly coating his tongue, and watched as Usagi did the same.

"Ok. Next topic." Usagi reached out to tenderly place a hand on his shoulder and uttered the next word softly, "Family."

Mamoru's body reacted involuntarily, the years having conditioned his muscles to instantly tense up at the mere mention of the word. His jaw clenched down almost painfully, and his hand tightened around his coffee cup, the faint warmth still emanating from it doing nothing to comfort him.

The past was in the past, Mamoru always told himself. Whenever Usagi brought up his childhood, he dismissed it as such. Yes, it was sad, but he had Usagi now. He had Chibiusa. He had a soulmate and friends and a family. That was enough. That should be enough. But…she had seen things. Things he never wanted to admit, even to himself.

"I dream about them constantly," he whispered. Mamoru felt Usagi's grip on his shoulder tighten. "They're short dreams, usually. Not much happens. In some, I'm still a child. My mother bandaging my skinned knee after I've fallen off my bike. My father sharing an ice cream cone with me in the park. The three of us together, enjoying a summer festival." His hollow laugh echoed around the room. "You know, wishful fake memories of a childhood I never had."

"There are others too, where I'm older. Them dancing and laughing with us on our wedding day. My mother blowing bubbles with Chibiusa in the park. My father sharing tea with yours. And what kills me is...I have no idea is this is actually what they were like. Maybe it's just what I wanted them to be. But I so badly want to know them…and how they were with me…and I never will."

"They loved you, Mamo-chan."

"How do you know?" Mamoru felt like a child, desperately seeking reassurance about something his logical mind told him Usagi had no way of knowing.

In a move that surprised him, Usagi got up and purposefully strode to the metal shelves next to his bad. She returned with a tarnished silver picture frame, one Mamoru knew quite well. It was the only picture he had of himself with his parents.

Usagi had asked him about it once, years ago. He had told her then that he hadn't been lonely anymore after meeting her. And that remained true—Usagi had banished the loneliness from his life, and Usagi was his family. But still, he craved to know his parents.

"What do you see in this picture, Mamo-chan?" Usagi offered the frame to him, but Mamoru barely had to look at it.

The picture had long since ingrained itself into his memory, unlike literally everything else about his parents. In it, he was maybe 7 years old. Wearing a blue sweater over a white collared shirt, he stood between his parents, both of his mother's hands on his shoulders. His mother was a petite woman, with dark hair and blue eyes that matched Mamoru's. His father towered over her, and his auburn hair and beard glistened in the late afternoon sun. Behind them, a brown wicker picnic basket lay open on a red and white checkered blanket.

"Strangers on a picnic," Mamoru muttered, unable to conceal his bitterness.

Usagi sadly shook her head. "Do you know what I see? I see two parents who clearly adore that cute little boy standing between them." Usagi tapped the picture, her fingernail clinking on the glass. "Truly look at it, Mamo-chan."

Mamoru shifted his gaze onto the picture. He usually didn't look at it because of the emotions it brought up for him. He hated that he couldn't remember them. Hated that his young self wasn't even smiling in it. Hated that it was fading from age. But now, he tried to study the expressions on his parents' faces.

"They loved you," Usagi insisted, conviction in her voice. "I see it in this picture, and I know it in my heart."

Mamoru knew Usagi excelled at reading people. The number of times he'd seen her do that—to him, to her friends, to children, hell, even to their enemies, assured him of this. If anyone could see what was truly in someone's soul just from a picture, it was Usagi.

And with that realization, something shifted in Mamoru, and it was like he was looking at the picture with new eyes. For the first time, he saw the tender way his mother gazed down at the young boy next to her, noticed the slight twinkle in his father's eyes, as if he were about to reach down and ruffle his son's hair. Both happiness and sadness hit him all at once. They loved him. They were gone.

"I know that doesn't make the dreams any easier," Usagi murmured. "I know how badly you wish you could know them. But I hope you can take some comfort in the fact that they loved you. And you can always share those dreams with me. Wanting to know your parents doesn't take anything away from our family."

Mamoru nodded wordlessly, again amazed that Usagi had been able to see part of why it was so hard to share this with her. How he didn't want her to think he was ungrateful to her or that their family wasn't enough. Mamoru reached across the table, clasped her hand with his, and raised it to his lips to deposit a kiss on her wrist's smooth skin. "Thank you, Usako."

Usagi grinned, pushing the plate toward him. "And now, more cake!"

Mamoru took a bite of a second petit four, the rich, sweet chocolate flooding his taste buds. Usagi followed suit, her eyes lighting up in excitement the way they always did when chocolate was involved.

Mamoru raised his coffee cup to his lips to drain what was left of it at the same time that Usagi blurted out "And what about us? What did she see?"

And, for the first time that night, Mamoru realized that she was also nervous about this topic. Of course. His dreams had once scared him into trying not to love her.

But it wasn't those dreams, the ones of Usagi's death and destruction, that he was ashamed the girl had seen.

His heartbeat and breathing accelerated as images came unbidden to his mind. Him pressing a lithe body up against stone walls of a castle's hidden corridor, dimly lit by flickering torchlight. Endless blonde hair pooling around black silk bedsheets. A white silk dress haphazardly thrown over a rosebush, grass and twigs digging roughly into his naked skin.

Mamoru felt the heat rising in his cheeks, and he fixed his gaze on a space on the table, not meeting Usagi's eyes. He had never spoken to her about this so directly before, and the words came out in a jumbled mess.

"She saw…how I dream of…us. Being together like…like…"

"Like this?" In one swift movement, Usagi moved over to Mamoru's side of the table and straddled him, pushing his back against the bed.

Mamoru froze, a deer in the headlights. He stifled a groan as she deliciously ground her hips against him. He had always tried to keep their physical intimacy somewhat chaste, tried to keep the extent of his desire for her in check. He'd always told himself it was because she was so young, and while that was certainly a factor, his own discomfort with physical intimacy was a bigger one. But now, the sensation of Usagi being so close to him combined with the look of pleasure on her face was threatening to send him over the edge.

She raised his palm to gently cup one of her breasts.

"Usako!" he chided, scandalized, the tips of his ears turning pink, jerking his hand away as if scalded.

She stopped her movements and cocked her head at him, twirling one of her impossibly long pigtails around her finger. "Mamo-chan, don't you know? That I think about you like that, too?"

She lowered her voice and leaned toward his ear, whispering huskily. "That I think about coming undone with you, shouting your name and begging you for more. I think about you touching me everywhere with your fingers…your lips…your…." Usagi trailed off, grinning at the deep blush now covering Mamoru's entire face.

"That I touch myself thinking of you after I dream about when we were together as Serenity and Endymion." She gently ground her hips against him again, a soft moan escaping from her lips.

The heat in Mamoru's cheeks now felt like an inferno, and he knew that Usagi could certainly feel the evidence of his arousal from her position.

He also remembered…also touched himself remembering…but always felt ashamed afterwards. Dirty.

Usagi continued. "Sometimes I remember the feeling of truly being with you so vividly, and I can't wait until we're ready in this lifetime."

Mamoru felt shame washing over him, mixing with his desire at Usagi's words. How was it that she, at 15, could so perfectly express the very feelings he had so much trouble with even experiencing, nevermind sharing?

Usagi lovingly kissed one cheek, then the other. "Mamo-chan. It's ok to want that."

And that was really all it took. Mamoru captured Usagi's lips with his own, wrapping his arms tightly around her waist, desperately pulling her closer. She responded in kind, pressing him down onto the carpeted floor. This time, he did audibly groan as she darted her tongue into his mouth, coaxing his lips open more fully so she could further explore him.

So often, he held back, ashamed of how much he wanted her. But this time, he poured all of his desire into their kiss, his hands roaming over her body, skimming over her curves, delighting in her little mewls of pleasure as she pressed herself against him.

Mamoru flipped Usagi over so he was above her, and pushed her pink blouse up to her neck. He peppered her stomach with light kisses before making his way to the swollen skin exposed above the cups of her bra, his lips continuing their attack. He'd never allowed himself to go this far.

"Ugghhh," Usagi moaned, her body writhing beneath him. Her reaction sent a jolt of pleasure to his core, and he again crushed his lips to hers.

But he didn't want to rush this. They had time.

Slowly, agonizingly, Mamoru pulled away and pulled Usagi's blouse back down, leaning over her. Her hair was coming undone, face flushed, pupils dilated, and he couldn't imagine a more beautiful or arousing sight.

"Usako," he breathed, lovingly rubbing his palm against her cheek. "I do want you. So much. And I hate that she saw that before you did."

Usagi deposited on soft kiss on his chest and snuggled up next to him, resting her head on his chest, idly tracing a pattern with her fingertips.

Mamoru was surprised by how relaxed he felt. He'd always been so scared of sharing, but the weight that had been on his shoulders since the day's events had significantly dissipated after confessing some of his most intimate secrets to Usagi. The atmosphere in the room had changed now, the mood less tense.

"Thank you for sharing all of this with me. I know how hard it can be for you."

Mamoru rubbed his hand over her hair, hoping to convey some of his own gratitude.

"And hey, Mamo-chan?" Usagi's tone had turned playful.

"Yes?"

"She didn't see that you want me before I did. You may be good at hiding your emotions. But you're less good at hiding your hormones."

Mamoru shot up, sputtering, his mouth opening and closing but not forming words.

Usagi giggled at his reaction. "Do you want that third cake now?"

 


End file.
